Finding the Lost Diadem - 5

Harry shut his eyes and hurried away from them — their love for him filled him more completely than they'd ever know — but he couldn't allow them to be hurt because of him. He wouldn't.

*~*~*

[Ginny,

I wish I could think of something to say to make this easier for you. I can stand to die, but I can't stand knowing that I'm leaving you in pain. I'm so sorry. Believe me when I say I know how you feel.

I'm certain no one really knows how you feel, but I hope, in time, you'll remember me fondly. I want you to go on, Ginny. I want you to be happy, to fall in love again and someday have a family of your own, no matter how much I hate thinking about that. I want everything for you, Ginny, because you gave me everything. You not only showed me how to love…you showed me how to live.

Wherever I am, I know that I miss you, Ginny. And I always will. I'm leaving you my dad's Invisibility Cloak. Use it well — that's what the note said when it was given to me. It's the one thing I have left from my family, and I know you'll take care of it — like you took care of me.]

Harry pushed the letter away, scrubbing his hand across his blurry eyes. He didn't want to have to say goodbye to Ginny. He didn't want to say goodbye to any of them. A loud snore echoed across the dark dormitory, causing Harry to let his head fall onto his desk with a thump. As the snore was answered with a chorus of even louder snores, he repeatedly banged his forehead on top of the letter he'd been unsuccessfully trying to write.

He'd managed to fall asleep that evening before the Weasley symphony had begun, but his sleep had been marred by a dream. Not a nightmare, not a hormone-fest as his addled brain had been wont to do of late, but a normal dream. He and Ginny had been walking hand in hand along a sandy beach. A warm summer breeze ruffled their hair, and their two footsteps were the only thing marring the sand as they enjoyed the sunshine.

For such a brief scene, the dream had lasted for what seemed a very long time, and Harry wasn't certain why that bothered him so much. Perhaps it was his subconscious wishing for things that were never meant to be. Perhaps it was the hope that Hermione's words had flared within him. He'd begun to hope that maybe he could survive this fight — and he knew he couldn't afford the luxury of such thoughts — not if he was going to remain strong enough to do what had to be done.

It wouldn't do to dwell on dreams — no matter how pleasant the dreams might be.

He still had one more Horcrux to find before he could even think about the final battle.

Hermione had said he'd have to trust them.

Trust them? Didn't he? Dumbledore had said that this great power of his was love. Could that love mean learning to trust in his friends implicitly? …To know that someone else would actually be there to catch him if he fell?

Harry lifted his head from the desk and ran a shaking hand through his unruly hair. He just didn't know, and he was too tired to think about it anymore.

He felt angry and had nowhere to direct that anger at present. With everything else Voldemort had done to him, did he have to leave a piece of himself behind, too? Was it just to gloat?